


Wish for You

by Hinalilly



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Splash Free, Angst and Feels, Feels, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 20:05:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13220220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinalilly/pseuds/Hinalilly
Summary: The Oasis of Samezuka has dried up.The water spirits refuse to answer Rin's call, and Rin refuses to stop asking.There is nothing Rin wants more than water.Nothing at all.For theHaruRinHaru New Year's Gift Exchange 2017.(Rating might change.)





	Wish for You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hello_sunni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hello_sunni/gifts).



> The prompts I received this year were all so nice that I couldn't figure out which one I wanted to write more... so I decided, I'm just gonna combine as many of them as I can! And then this came out of it.
> 
> I don't usually have a chance to write SPLASH FREE AUs, even though it's my favorite canon AU setting, so I'm doubly grateful!
> 
> Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, Sunni! I hope you like this story! Enjoy~

 

 

Water dripped down the Sultan’s body. It rolled down his face, his chest, weighing down his robes, and fell off in dull droplets on the marble floor. The two attendants at his side, empty bowls in hand, stood still with breath held, fingers shaking and eyes wide and wary. At the doors of the otherwise empty room stood both the captain of the guard, Seijuurou, and Aiichirou, assigned to the Sultan’s personal security, both alert and ready to move at a moment’s notice. The Sultan stared through his wet bangs at the water pooling at his feet, waiting.

Nothing happened.

His eyelashes felt heavy for the millionth time.

The entire room was devoid of sound, except for the droplets that continued to fall.

Nothing.

“… Leave.”

The Sultan’s voice echoed, deep and shaky with repressed anger. The two attendants, broken out of their nervous stillness, stared at each other, hesitating.

“ _Leave._ ” The Sultan repeated. Aiichirou’s mouth opened to protest but, before he could budge, the captain standing at his side bowed, acknowledging the order, and saving the other three from the Sultan’s blind fury.

As soon as Seijuurou straightened again, the two attendants placed the empty bowls of water on the floor and rushed out of the room, leaving a doubtful Aiichirou to follow after. A protest was held back in his throat as he gave one last stare at the Sultan, before the door was closed behind them both.

“Captain—”

“There is nothing we can do right now,” Seijuurou said sternly, his eyes fixed on the closed door. “Unless his heart is truly in it, it will never work.”

“But his heart _is_ in it!” Aiichirou whined out in frustration. “Nobody wants the ritual to work more than Lord Rin!”

Seijuurou continued to stare at the door, his expression giving nothing away.

“I wonder about that.”

 

Droplets fell. The pool of water at his bare feet rippled softly. Rin breathed heavily. The water did not move. With gritted teeth, Rin let out a scream of pure frustration, and shoved one of the empty bowls away, sending it clanging and tumbling all the way across the room.

 

_Why?_

 

_Why isn’t it working?_

 

_Why won’t you answer?_

 

Ripping his wet, heavy black robe off, Rin flung it to the side as well, and pulled both hands through his hair, his tired gaze falling back on the water at his feet.

 

* * *

 

Word in the castle traveled fast, but with no urgency. It was no surprise; nobody expected the ritual to work this time, either. Most servants had stopped keeping count of how many times it had been attempted recently. Some, in spite of having raised the Sultan since he had been but a baby, had even begun wondering if he was in fact of royal blood at all. Others had already begun making plans to leave, their preparations underway to varying degrees. The large majority agreed that continuing to use up their precious reserves for a ritual that was clearly never going to work was nothing more than a waste.

Nobody could live in a desert without water.

But giving up on the ritual meant giving up on their city, their way of life, their memories, the place their ancestors had protected before them.

Aiichirou believed in the Sultan. He was convinced something had gone wrong, each time the ritual failed. The Sultan barely left his quarters except to make another attempt, so Aiichirou dedicated every moment of his spare time to investigate, to read up on the old texts and records, to find out what it was that they were doing wrong and how they could make it work.

This time, next time.

There was always a next time. As long as they had a single drop of water left, there was always a chance.

The Sultan believed that, so Aiichirou believed in him as well.

There was nobody more dedicated, more devoted to the water spirits than the Sultan. Ever since he had been little, he had lived, breathed, echoed with the water. There was nobody more suited to commune with the spirits than him.

 _And yet he sent his own family away_ , the other guards whispered when nobody else could hear, but when everyone else was listening, _not long after the oasis dried up_.

 

 _There is no hope,_ they said.

 

_He’s given up._

 

_He refuses to accept his failure._

 

_He’s doomed us all._

 

Aiichirou looked to the captain for reassurance whenever the rumors got to him, whenever the whispering got too loud to keep the faith. The captain looked serious like he never had, every single time. There was a fire in his eyes that quieted down the unrest, an undying loyalty that kept the more doubtful soldiers at bay. No matter how bad the situation became, nobody would dare lift a finger in front of the captain, especially not when he stared everyone down silently with a gaze of steel. 

He always looked serious lately.

Aiichirou knew the rumors had to have reached the Sultan’s ears as well. He could see it behind his tired eyes, hear it in his strained, bitter-sounding voice. He wanted to reassure the Sultan, to let him know he and others would follow his half-hearted commands and would stand with him until the very end.

( _Until the very end?_ That didn’t sound reassuring at all.)

He tried to approach him on several occasions, but the Sultan was always focusing, meditating, working on his own, much like Aiichirou himself was, to figure out the fault in the ritual. He would surely not appreciate being disturbed, so Aiichirou sought out the captain more often than not. He could never truly voice out his doubts; he felt putting them into words would manifest the lack of faith he refused to admit was starting to take root in his heart. But the captain would always spare a few words and a smile, and his energy in spite of the heat and the drought never failed to make Aiichirou certain he was on the right path. The ritual would succeed. He just needed to continue supporting the Sultan through it all.

The captain’s words after they had left the room, however, had done nothing but rattle Aiichirou’s determination.

How could the Sultan’s heart _not_ be in it? There was nobody more hard-headed, more success-driven than Lord Rin. Water was his goal, and he was going to get it if it was the last thing he did—that’s how it always had been with him, ever since he had been a child. _If he so wished it, he could probably call down the water spirits with a flick of his finger,_ was what everyone used to say back then.

And yet, the spirits had failed to answer his call.

Had something changed? What could’ve possibly driven the spirits away from their most gifted follower? Aiichirou stared at the captain, as they both stood guard a little down the hallway, waiting for the Sultan to emerge from the ritual room, fulfilling their duty while giving him some breathing space as well.

“Captain…” Aiichirou started, softly, warily, trying not to give his doubts away. But he wasn’t sure what to say, how to ask.

_What do you really think, captain? What did you mean by that? Have you lost your faith as well? Are you going to forsake Lord Rin after all?_

“… is there really nothing we can do to help?” He asked at last, a tad too desperate for encouragement.

Seijuurou remained silent for a while, his eyes fixed on the door. He looked still, but Aiichirou could see he was just as deep in thought as he himself had been a few moments ago. He wished he could read into all the answers the captain wasn’t giving him, that he could pry the thoughts he was hiding behind that serious gaze. But Seijuurou gave nothing away.

“Go fetch some towels,” he said, finally, offering Aiichirou a small smile. “We don’t want the Sultan catching a cold, now.”

“Y-Yes, sir! Right away!” Aiichirou jumped to action with a spring in his step, revitalized by the captain’s words.

Yes, he had not gotten a straight response. And yes, it was highly likely the captain didn’t have the answers to what they could do to make the ritual work, either. But there was _something_ , if only very little, that they could still do for Lord Rin. And Aiichirou was going to do anything he could, unquestioningly, putting every ounce of faith he had left in it.

 

* * *

 

The doors of the ritual room were pushed open as Rin walked out at last, dragging his robe along the floor, with heavy steps. His motions carried the weight on his shoulders and in his heart, as the sweltering heat began to dry the water off his body. He had no idea how long he had stayed in there, pondering, thinking, waiting, beating himself up internally for his lack of results. Outside, waiting like a stone statue, stood Seijuurou, as if time since Rin’s most recent failure had stood still. 

“… I thought I ordered everyone to leave,” spat Rin out, exhaustion masking his frustration. Seijuurou did not grace him with a reply.

“Rin.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Rin cut him off immediately. He didn’t want to hear it. Not from Seijuurou, of all people. The ritual had to continue. Giving up was not an option. Again, Seijuurou stayed silent.

Rin wasn’t deaf. He could hear what everyone in the castle was saying. That it was pointless to stay. That it was foolish to keep _wasting_ any more water. That they should pack any reserves they had left and set out, as so many others had already done before them, and find a new, better place to live in.

He didn’t have time for any of that. He had to focus on the ritual. Focus on getting heard… he couldn’t get caught up in the words of others.

“Well?” Seijuurou prodded him, ever calm. “What was I going to say?”

Rin stood straight, holding his ground. He respected Seijuurou, trusted him with his life (quite literally so), relied on his sensible advice. But on this matter he could not fold, he could not yield. He had to perform the ritual. He had to succeed. Failure was not an option. “I have to keep going,” Rin stated, firm. “I know they will listen. I can’t give up now.” He faced Seijuurou directly, hoping, wanting to convey the urgency, the need. “You know I can’t leave things like this.”

Seijuurou breathed out slowly, but he didn’t smile. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

Unable to keep the bitterness from seeping out of him, Rin’s defenses flared up, uncalled for. “Really?” He began, his lips downturned in a scowl. “Then why did you send your brother away as well, huh?”

 

_Just say it. There is no hope for this place. I’m on my own. Only I can do this._

 

But Seijuurou didn’t speak the words in Rin’s head. He stood before him, smileless, his brow creased only slightly by the very personal and very calculated jab that Rin had just thrown his way.

Had it not been Seijuurou standing in front of him, Rin would probably not have reacted that way. (Perhaps a part of him did want someone to put a stop to his fruitless endeavour. But Rin would not, could never admit that to himself.)

Seijuurou spoke calmly, but with the tone of someone who would not tolerate any more underhanded comments during the remainder of the current conversation. “Someone had to take care of the princess and your mother,” he said, matter-of-factly and to the point. “Someone I could trust. And I couldn’t leave you here on your own,” he added, his words laced with all the implications that neither he nor Rin had touched upon out loud yet, but both were well aware of.

Rin, as expected, did not take that last admission well.

“Even though you wanted to?” With a step forward, Rin challenged, _dared_ Seijuurou to bare his mistrust of him out in the open, once and for all. But Seijuurou was not the captain of the guard for no reason, and he shoved Rin’s dare aside with cutting grace.

“Don’t try that with me, Rin.” Rin scoffed at Seijuurou’s almost paternal scolding, turning away from him. “I am here not out of duty to the crown or to your parents,” Seijuurou spelled out clearly and slowly, while firm in his position, “but because I believe in you. I’m not the only one who does.” Rin scoffed again, this time with less spite, and with more frustration, more embarrassment. He had nothing to show for that trust but childish arguments and a rock-hard stubbornness that was costing his people precious resources and valuable time. “But,” Seijuurou continued, keeping his distance from Rin, who only managed to look up again at him. “I must tell you this—you aren’t looking at your people.” Caught off guard, Rin attempted to protest, but the fierceness in Seijuurou’s eyes stopped him on his tracks. “Your eyes and your heart are somewhere else. If you keep this up… Samezuka _will_ fall. And I can not allow that to happen.”

Rin stood gaping, baffled, at Seijuurou’s words. Him? Not looking at his people? When everything he was doing was for _them_? For his country? For the water they needed to survive?

Rin couldn’t bear the lingering omen of those words, the spikes around him sharpening, ready to pounce back.

“Is that a threat?” He asked, solemnly, mouthing each word in a show of force.

Seijuurou’s expression fell a little.

“If you really think that,” he spoke slowly, any hurt he might have felt at Rin’s conclusions masked by a practiced, perfect calm, “then there’s no point in attempting the ritual again.”

Darkness fell on Rin’s eyes as he heard those words. He didn’t have the time for guessing games. He didn’t know what Seijuurou was trying to tell him, he couldn’t tell whether he was trying to help or whether he was simply trying to call out Rin’s foolishness. Rin already knew it was probably futile to keep trying, but he had no other choice. The one thing he could not concede was backing down. He could not stop. Forward was the only way he could go.

With a sharp turn, Rin threw his black robe over his own shoulders again, and gave his back to Seijuurou.

“The ritual will be held again tomorrow,” he pronounced, firm and unmoving. “Make sure all the necessary preparations are made.”

Seijuurou’s only reply was just as dry and unfeeling as Rin’s own orders had been.

“Yes, my Lord.”

 

* * *

 

Rin slammed the door of his room shut as gracefully as a drenched, upset, frustrated ruler of a dying land could. He yanked his still wet robes off in anger, throwing them in a random direction as he headed for his bed. Spotting the tray of food at his bedside table, and the neatly folded bundle of dry towels and clothes at the bottom of his bed that had most likely been sneaked inside by Aiichirou moments before he arrived only made him angrier with himself. 

He didn’t need to be babied. He didn’t need to be told what to do. He just needed things to _work_ as they should.

Rin dried himself up only out of frustration, and only out of frustration did he get changed, but the motions only made him more irate. He shouldn’t have to wait another day. He should be carrying out the ritual again immediately. The spirits _should_ be listening to him. It was ridiculous, everything was ridiculous. That the oasis would dry up, that the spirits that had blessed the land of Samezuka for ages would’ve stopped responding, that Rin, who was charged with ruling what had once been one of the most prosperous countries of the desert sands, was unable to provide his people with the most basic resource for survival. That someone who had been raised with everything at his disposal, born to a family with the ability and the responsibility to commune with the spirits, could not carry out his duty when it was most needed of him to do so.

There was definitely something wrong, and Rin couldn’t see what it was. Maybe the vipers among his guard were right. Maybe he _was_ the problem. Maybe he was the reason why the ritual wasn’t working. Maybe he was inadequate. Maybe he didn’t have the ability—no, maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough. Maybe the spirits were listening, maybe they just didn’t understand. Maybe he wasn’t expressing his wish as clearly as he ought to.

Rin threw himself on his bed, ignoring the food left for him. He left his face buried on the pillow for a few moments, the fabric hot and dry and suffocating. Turning his head, Rin stared towards his open balcony, the drawn curtains completely still from the lack of a breeze. The outside looked just as still and dry and suffocating as his pillow did, and even though he should be closing the curtains before sleep, lest the sand should find its way in while he slept, Rin felt no desire to stand, or ever leave his room again.

His wish… if only the spirits would answer his wish. If only they would bless Samezuka with water again, if only the oasis would burst with life again, then maybe his people wouldn’t be condemned to abandon their current lives forever. Maybe they wouldn’t have to forsake the land of their ancestors, the land their fathers had left them—the land _his_ father had left him.

If only the spirits would answer his plea—

 

_You aren’t looking at your people._

 

Rin shut his eyes. Just remembering that conversation put him on edge. Of course he was looking at his people. Why else would he be doing this? Why else would he so desperately continue pursuing such a fruitless endeavour if it wasn’t for Samezuka, for his people?

He wanted water for them.  
He needed the spirits for the water.  
That was all he wished for.

 

_Your eyes and your heart are somewhere else._

 

With a sharp breath, Rin held his pillow tight, biting his lip and putting all his strength into staying strong. He would not waver. He would not allow himself to be weak. 

He was only fooling himself, but he refused to allow himself to acknowledge it.

In his frustration, in his loneliness, in his despair, the tiny seed of truth that Seijuurou had sowed in his heart began to grow rapidly, taking root in Rin’s mind and clouding his thoughts.

 

_Your eyes and your heart are somewhere else._

 

Of course they were. 

Rin was thinking clearly for the first time in a long time.

He huffed in frustration and gripped the pillow hard enough to choke himself as tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. It was futile to try to stop them; they flowed out rapidly and abundantly, in a way that the water of the spirits did not.

The spirits were never going to give him water, because water wasn’t what Rin really wanted. No, that was a lie, he _did_ want water, but there was something else he wanted more.

But that which he wanted was never going to come.

Rin muffled his sobbing against the pillow. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he lied to himself and to everyone else, he was still selfish. The spirits would never answer him, because they couldn’t give him what he wanted.

Curled up into a small, fragile ball of despair and exhaustion, Rin cried himself to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Rin had forgotten to close the curtains, and yet the morning sun did not glare on his face. His eyelids should be mildly stuck together with dry tears and weariness, and yet Rin did not feel that heaviness weighing him down. There was no dry sand on his face, no smell of sweat on his skin. Maybe it had all been a bad dream. (Rin wasn’t that much of a fool to believe something like that.)

With the welcoming emptiness that came from pouring out all of his feelings before sleep, Rin willed his numb limbs to budge, starting by the arms holding the pillow under his head.

Rin clenched his fists, but he held no pillow. He breathed in, but there was no fabric smothering his face.

Instead, Rin breathed in the scent of a fountain, of a river flowing slowly and steadily across the wet sand, of damp hair drying in the sunlight. Maybe he was still half asleep. (That, he could believe.)

What a cruel dream to have.

Rin brought a hand to his face, rubbing the sleepiness off his eyes in order to open them. His heart ached early today, with the reminder of things he could not have again. He regretted allowing himself to think, to ponder his own feelings, the night before. If only he could embrace that numbness, then maybe he could finally pray for the water properly. But with his heart in this state, there was no doubt about it—the ritual would fail again today.

It really was a waste. He really was a fool.

Rin rubbed his eyes, and yet did not open them. Maybe if he faked exhaustion, if he pretended to be unable to get up, the ritual could be postponed until the next morning. Maybe he could avoid his duty, and avoid wasting more water, at least for one day. It made no difference either way; it would definitely be a failure if he attempted it in his current, shaken state.

But Rin opened his eyes anyway. Because he felt what was very much indeed a finger, a _hand_ , gently combing the bangs away from his face. Rin opened his eyes, startled, and startled it was that he remained, eyes wide and mouth falling open slowly, as he gazed upon the figure sitting on the bed beside him: the tanned, sun-kissed skin, draped in dirtied, sandy clothes, and those deep, bright blue eyes, framed between soft, disheveled strands of dark hair.

Rin remained laying down where he was, cradled against that man’s lap, because in his stupor it was unthinkable for him to draw the strength necessary to get up and ascertain whether he was truly awake or not.

As he lay still, in total shock, the man’s fingers caressed his face once again, thumb brushing the corners of his eyes, and Rin’s heart scrunched up painfully, hope and fear mixed in a single, overwhelmingly gentle heartbeat.

“I heard you cry,” a voice deeper than Rin would’ve ever imagined, but with exactly the same emotion and intonation as he remembered, resounded in the room and in his aching heart, “so I came to your side.”

Rin took in a sharp, painful breath, and even as the world around him lost all of its remaining water, his own eyes refused to remain dry.

“… _Haru._ ” 

 

 


End file.
